


Wild Horses

by insomniabug



Series: Smol & Tol drabbles [9]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniabug/pseuds/insomniabug
Summary: the one where a volatile horse falls in love with Illya





	

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, i have no idea.

“Is it safe?” Her eyes are wide, awestruck and brave even when unsure. It makes him imagine her as a child. He remembers the story she told him of the first time she stepped foot in her father’s garage; of the first engine she put together on her own at the age of ten in a room full of grown men sniggering louder than the gossiping school girls in her classroom.

“Do not worry little chop shop girl, I am here.” He smiles warmly at her, but he can tell that all it does is put her more off kilter.

She gives him a look, like he’s the danger instead of the animal before them. It makes him uneasy; the uncertainty in her eyes when she looks at him, like she’s not entirely sure she can trust him. For a second, he feels a tinge of anger slice through him; he isn’t the one who betrayed her trust. Italy is still a sore spot for him, even after that brief moment in his hotel room when she apologized and he forgave her. He takes a steadying breath, and lets the anger go. It’s been easier, the calming and controlling of his emotions. And even though it’s a great relief not to be a slave to his anger, he’s suspiciously worried it is just being converted into something even more dangerous to him…more dangerous to his heart.

“It is okay. She is more scared of you. You need only to approach slowly.” A realization flies through his mind that she and the animal are not so different in that way. To say getting close to her has been difficult would be what Solo would call an understatement.

With slow, short steps, Gaby approaches the horse. This particular horse is tall, dark and fierce. The ranchers made it specifically clear that no one should ride the horse while U.N.C.L.E. spent their time there undercover. She had been abused by previous handlers, and refused to let anyone near her. That is, everyone except for Illya. All the other horses gave Illya a wide berth, which made it difficult to secure their cover as farmhands.

Except for Bertha.

She did not allow him to ride her, but for some reason, the horse did not shy away from him, and actually seemed to enjoy his company. Napoleon thought it was hilarious…until Bertha approached him and he backed up into a pile of cow dung.

“She’s beautiful.” Gaby whispers, with her eyes softer than Illya is used to seeing. For days Gaby had been avoiding the horse paddock, and it was only after many whiskey sours and an unexpected dance that was actually a dance, that she told him the reason why. When she was a child, her mother had taken her to a carnival and she rode her first horse. Everything went fine until the horse became spooked and threw a six year old Gaby onto the ground, breaking her wrist. Shortly after that, her mother died, and horses and pain became inextricably linked together in her young mind.

Illya makes sure to stay close, knowing how particular Bertha is of who approaches her. When Illya had tried steering Gaby toward the more docile horses, the ones who let all but him near, she shook her head and said, “I want to meet the one who trusts you.”

Bertha eyes them cautiously, and when she huffs a couple times at them, Illya stops Gaby from advancing.

“Wait.” His finger trails down her arm, holds her hand in his. Her palm is warm and damp against hers, revealing her nerves to be worse than he thought. Pulling her behind him, he leads the way to Bertha.

"Ruhe jetzt.” He says to the horse, and he can feel Gaby squeeze his hand in surprise. The first time he laid eyes on Bertha, the pain, and immense strength in spite of it, had shone brightly in her eyes. It reminded him of Gaby, of the unspoken suffering and underlying fortitude, and the native language of her country unexpectedly flowed from his lips. He doesn't know how or why, but the horse recognized the language and became less guarded. She approached Illya and the rest was history.

And that was the big secret of Bertha’s fondness for him. A secret he now shares with the woman beside him.

Reaching into his pocket, he hands Gaby a small red apple and shifts her so she’s now standing in front of him. He’s so close to her, he’s sure she can feel his thundering heart against her back. Holding the back of her hand in his, they both offer Bertha the treat.

Bertha hasn’t pinned her ears back or bared her teeth, so Illya is hopeful. Sniffing the air before her, the horse moves slowly towards them.

“Komm schon. Das ist ein gutes Mädchen.” Illya says, willing the horse to come nearer. Gaby has gone completely still in his embrace, and he can feel her become tense as Bertha approaches. But she doesn’t move away.

Taking the apple gently from their hands, Bertha begins to chew and the tense air seems to magically dissipate. While she's busy chewing, Illya then directs their joined hands onto Bertha’s long neck. Gaby sighs at the luxuriously soft skin like silk, the tension in her own body steadily decreasing. She becomes more confident in her strokes and eventually shrugs Illya’s hand off of hers.

“Du bist schön,” she says to Bertha. The horse huffs, but this time it’s not a sound of warning. It sounds almost…content.

Still staying close by, Illya watches with pride as she begins to stroke Bertha with both hands, hands gentle but sure. Hands that know how to respect a powerful thing beneath them. A vision of her hands on him, of her fingers stroking his skin, fills his mind and he’s sure his ears are turning red. But thankfully Gaby is too enraptured with Bertha to notice him.

**Author's Note:**

> "Ruhe jetzt." - "Calm now."  
> "Komm schon. Das ist ein gutes Mädchen.” - "Come now. That's a good girl."  
> "Du bist schön,” - "You're beautiful."


End file.
